Fallen General's Omega (BL)
Chapter 177: Death of me [M]

Chapter 177: Death of me [M]

Thorne’s hand moved with purpose, guiding Noelle’s smaller one lower, until Noelle’s fingers brushed against the heated length of him. His eyes widened momentarily as he attempted to wrap his hand around it, barely managing to encircle the girth.

At the first tentative touch, Thorne let out a guttural groan, the sound raw and unrestrained, vibrating through the air between them. His head tilted back slightly, lips parting as he fought for composure. "You must know," he began, his voice thick with need, "for the past years, all I’ve had for company is my own hand. Honestly, I’m tired of it."

His admission sent a spark of something wicked and triumphant through Noelle. He tightened his grip slightly, his movements deliberate as he began to stroke, his green eyes alight with amusement and concentration. "I’m glad to know you had a sex drive," Noelle said dryly, though his lips curled into a smirk. "I barely had one."

Thorne chuckled, though it quickly dissolved into a groan as Noelle’s hand moved with more confidence, his touch exploring and experimenting. Thorne’s hips began to move instinctively, matching the rhythm Noelle set, his breathing becoming heavier with each passing second.

"Just like that..." Thorne murmured, his voice a mix of encouragement and desperation. His damp blonde hair clung to his forehead, and his left hand raked through it, pushing it back messily. His eyes fluttered shut, as though the sensations were too much to handle.

"I would dream about you," he confessed, his voice thick with unspoken longing. "Your touch, your scent, the sounds you’d make. I’d wake up aching, only to find myself alone with nothing but those dreams to keep me company."

Noelle’s heart clenched at the admission, a wave of tenderness softening the wicked glint in his eyes. But he didn’t let it stop him from keeping Thorne on edge, his strokes becoming firmer, more intentional. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against Thorne’s ear as he whispered, "Well, you’re not alone now. I’m here. I’ll make sure you forget every lonely moment."

Thorne’s eyes snapped open, his intense blue gaze locking onto Noelle’s. There was something vulnerable in the way he looked at his husband, an unspoken gratitude mixed with overwhelming desire. "I could never forget, Noelle," he said hoarsely. "Not when you make me feel like this. Like I’m whole again."

Thorne’s breath hitched when Noelle abruptly stood, breaking the rhythm and leaving him teetering on the edge of ecstasy. His blue eyes widened, disbelief etched into his features as he watched his husband’s sudden retreat.

"My beloved, please," Thorne begged, his voice rough and unashamed. Desperation clawed at him, the unbearable ache in his core driving him to take matters into his own hands. He reached down, squeezing himself tightly for a momentary reprieve, but the fleeting relief was nothing compared to Noelle’s touch.

The sound of Noelle’s giggle was sweet and maddening. Thorne’s head snapped up, and his narrowed eyes locked on his smirking husband. "I love you, but please—oh, ohhh," he groaned, his voice catching as Noelle knelt before him with deliberate slowness.

"Don’t mind me, carry on," Noelle teased, his voice light and playful. He glanced up through long lashes, his smirk deepening at Thorne’s reaction. The look alone sent a jolt of heat coursing through Thorne, and he suddenly realized something: Noelle might be the one on his knees, but in this moment, he held all the power.

With deliberate care, Noelle swept his long raven hair back over his shoulder, the movement fluid and graceful. His emerald eyes never left Thorne’s as he leaned forward, his warm tongue flicking over the tip of Thorne’s straining length. The touch was electric, a spark that sent shudders through Thorne’s towering frame.

"Stars above," Thorne groaned, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as Noelle’s tongue trailed languidly along his shaft, licking every inch with a teasing thoroughness. His lips closed around the prominent vein running along the underside, sucking gently, and Thorne’s knees buckled.

"Noelle..." Thorne’s voice was a guttural rasp, a mix of warning and pleading.

But Noelle had no intention of stopping. He engulfed the head fully, his soft lips sealing around it as he began to suck in earnest. His cheeks hollowed, the movement creating an intense pull that drew loud, unrestrained groans from Thorne.

"You don’t even know," Thorne rasped, his voice trembling as he looked down at the vision before him. "Do you know how pretty you are like this?"

Noelle’s raven-black hair framed his face, strands clinging to his damp skin. The sight alone was enough to drive Thorne mad. Unable to resist, he reached down, gathering the silken strands into a makeshift ponytail with one hand, wrapping them around his wrist for control.

Thorne’s voice was thick with desire, his words carrying a heavy weight as he cradled Noelle’s face. "Tap three times on my leg if it becomes too much, alright?" His tone softened for a moment, a thread of concern cutting through the haze of lust.

Noelle’s lips quirked into a small, teasing smile as he gave a casual thumbs-up, his green eyes sparkling with mischief even as they glistened with unshed tears from the intensity of their moment. The unspoken trust between them hung in the air like a tether, binding them together as Thorne began to move.

With his fingers firmly wrapped in the silky strands of Noelle’s raven-black hair, Thorne guided his husband’s movements, a slow and deliberate rhythm at first. His hips rolled forward gently, savoring the warmth of Noelle’s mouth and the exquisite friction it provided. Each glide of Noelle’s tongue sent jolts of pleasure racing through him, igniting every nerve.

Thorne groaned, the sound deep and guttural, as Noelle hollowed his cheeks, creating a tantalizing suction. His movements were unhurried yet purposeful, his free hand resting against Thorne’s thigh for balance as he worked. Noelle’s smaller fingers wrapped around his own length, stroking himself in perfect synchronization with Thorne’s movements, the dual sensations drawing muffled moans from his occupied mouth.

The room filled with an intoxicating symphony of sounds—Thorne’s breathless groans, the wet, rhythmic sounds of Noelle’s mouth, and the occasional soft whimpers escaping from Noelle himself.

"Heavens," Thorne rasped, his voice thick with desperation. "You’re perfect—so perfect." His hips bucked involuntarily, his control slipping as the waves of pleasure became more insistent.

Tears began to well in Noelle’s eyes from the sheer force of Thorne’s thrusts, spilling down his flushed cheeks in shimmering rivulets. Yet, he made no move to stop, no sign of discomfort. Instead, he tightened his grip around Thorne’s thighs, his determination evident even through the haze of their shared lust.

The sight was too much for Thorne to bear. His head tilted back, his golden hair damp with sweat as his breath came in ragged gasps. "You... you drive me mad," he groaned, his voice cracking with intensity.

As his rhythm grew erratic, Thorne finally reached his limit. With a sharp cry, he withdrew from Noelle’s mouth, his release spilling across his husband’s face in hot, frantic bursts. The sight was blindingly intimate—Noelle, flushed and radiant, his lips parted and glistening as he gasped for air.

Just as Thorne’s mind began to clear from the haze, Noelle shuddered, his own climax overtaking him. His smaller frame trembled as his release painted his own chest and abdomen, the movements of his hand faltering before finally stilling.

For a moment, the only sounds in the room were their ragged breaths and the faint hum of the night outside. Thorne gazed down at Noelle, his chest heaving, and his expression raw with emotion. Noelle’s face was a masterpiece of disarray—tear-streaked and flushed, his lips swollen, and his skin glistening in the soft light.

Thorne stared at him, his body trembling from the intensity of it all. He should have felt sated, the ache in his body eased, but as he gazed at Noelle—his disheveled hair, his flushed cheeks, and the lazy smirk playing on his lips—he felt the heat stir again, more frantic and insistent than before.

"You’re going to be the death of me," Thorne murmured, his voice a low growl.

Noelle laughed softly, wiping at his face with his wrist before leaning forward to kiss Thorne’s jaw. "Then I’d better make it worth it," he whispered, his voice dripping with mischief and affection.

Thorne growled in response, pulling Noelle up and into his arms. "Oh, it will be," he promised, carrying him back toward the bed. "And we’re just getting started."